


You Only Love Twice

by astudyinfic



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, M/M, Slow Build, Villiers-Q, eventual 00q
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3811786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinfic/pseuds/astudyinfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when you think everything is perfect, the rug can be pulled out from underneath you.</p><p>How you go about rebuilding is the true judge of character.</p><p>And in the end, sometimes things work out even better than you could have ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“Villiers!  I need the file on…”_

_“Right side of your desk, ma’am.  About three files down.  The one you need next is on top of it.”_

To some, there was nothing remarkable about Timothy Villiers.  He was a quiet man who kept in M’s shadow, always where he needed to be.  It was because of that efficiency that rarely did anyone notice him.  M saw him, of course.  She had come to rely heavily on the young man during his service at MI6 but to everyone else, he was only considered in his absence.  If there were files that were needed, or tea to be procured and they didn’t appear as if by magic in their hands, only then people notice the absence of M’s secretary.

Villiers wasn’t Tanner and he didn’t want to be.  Where Bill Tanner could command the respect of all of the agents of MI6, Villiers preferred to work in the shadows, filing his papers and doing what M requested but rarely having anything to do with any of the other departments or even anyone outside of M’s office.  It was insulated job but it suited Villiers just fine.

_“Don’t you ever go home, Villiers?”_

_“I will when you do, ma’am.”_

Their relationship was unusual.  No one really got close to M.  She was a cold, distant figure to most who worked within Vauxhall Cross, a figurehead and someone to be feared but not one they would ever consider thinking of as a friend or even a colleague.  M was above them all and while occasionally people wondered what her husband was like, in the end, they rarely thought of her outside the office at all.  If they had been curious, though, they needed to only ask her secretary – not that he would have told them anything.  Villiers was a regular at the Mansfield home, often enjoying a Scotch with her husband after a shared dinner on the nights that didn’t see M working well past midnight before inquiring once more if there was anything she needed before he went to his flat for the night.

The Mansfields both looked on Timothy as the son they never had, doting on him to the best of their ability.  Aside from an occasional meal spent in the company of others, Tim rarely had any desire for more than his current lot in life.  He had a family with his employer, even if it was untraditional to say the least.  Mr. Mansfield – as Tim always called him, out of respect and for fear of crossing an invisible line – kept asking when Tim would settle down with a nice girl.

_“You need a life outside of Olivia’s office. She works you too hard.”_

_“Boy, sir.”_

_“Boy?”_

_“I would like to settle down with a nice boy.”_

_“Oh.  Good for you.  You see how Olivia bosses me around.  Find someone who is actually nice to you.”_

Mr. Mansfield laughed heartily as M chastised him from the kitchen where she was pouring herself another drink.

There wasn’t a lot of time for dating anyway.  Working at MI6 was never going to be a regular eight to five job and working in M’s office was bound to be even more unpredictable than most.  One never knew when a double oh agent would die and be resurrected, or would blow up a building, or would doing anything that resulted in M being summoned before the Ministers down in Parliament.  Often all three depending on which agent was involved.

Tim had grown up in Leeds, middle child of two middle children, always content to stay out of the way and let his older brother and younger sister cause all the trouble.  He was more interested in books and video games and playing outside with friends.  “Has anyone seen Timothy?” was a frequent cry throughout their home, causing the young boy to chuckle as they walked past him several times before noticing he had been there all along.

While many children would have been insulted, stomped their feet and cried to have been so ignored and unseen by his family, for Timothy it was the perfect situation.  From an early age, shyness had been practically crippling for him.  He knew it would hold him back in life so he used his ability to simply blend into the background to watch people – on the street, in shops and cafes, museums, parks and at home.  He watched how they interacted with each other and how they responded to questions and situations that would normally send him into a panic.   By the time he had reached his teenage years, Tim was a master at mimicking the proper reactions, even if they went against his very nature which was to withdraw and hide.

He became so good at this skill that in sixth form, he was one of the most popular boys in his class, sometimes to his own dismay.  Even the teachers enjoyed the young man who had big ideas and appeared to be destined for success.  When he was recruited by MI6, he said goodbye to that old life, however, and his classmates wondered whatever happened to the man they knew as he appeared to have simply vanished from the world.

At MI6, Villiers started off at the position he still occupied, moving there following an internship in Parliament where he was privileged to sit in on several hearings involving M.  There were six people who occupied the administrative office, aside from M and Tanner.  Tim took care of one small fraction of what was required from the the director’s office, while the other men and women had their own sections.  One by one, people either moved on or disappeared.  Each time, instead of taking on someone new, M simply gave their responsibilities to Tim, knowing he could do the job without any specific training.  By the new 007’s first mission at Casino Royale, Timothy Villiers was the only secretary employed by M and was by far the best one she had ever had.

M knew she wasn’t an easy person to work for.  Most people tended to run the other direction if they saw her coming, her gruff cold attitude making people uneasy.  However, it was different with Timothy and while she didn’t understand why he stuck around in the thankless position of her secretary, she did know why she wanted him there.  Timothy was efficient and thorough, always knew what needed to be done before being asked.  He didn’t get offended when she snapped at him in the heat of the moment and often had a come-back of his own.  He could handle the paperwork the double ohs only half-heartedly filed, able to fill in all the gaps from the footage obtained from Q-Branch and a few questions to select individuals involved with the mission.

Tim also accompanied her to every meeting outside of MI6, a silent presence who stood behind her and offered silent support and another set of hands if she ever needed them.  It was one of those meetings - in Kent of all places - that changed the course of Tim’s life, as well as that of one other man.

* * *

 

Growing up in Leeds, Crispin Boothroyd was an only child, adored by his parents who worked hard but always found time to be with their son.  His mum had been the head librarian for the main library in the city and every day after school, the young boy would spend his hours reading countless books or playing on the computers that were available for the public’s use.  It was his first experience with the machines that would come to dominate his entire career but as a boy, it was the books that really interested him.

His coding skills developed as he realized the computers in the library were woefully programmed to find books based on the user’s interest.  Key words were only somewhat useful, pulling the word from anywhere on the cover, including the author’s biography which often led to extra searching which he felt was a waste of time.  Getting into the library system code wasn’t difficult and with some minor changes, the entire catalogue seemed to run faster and more efficiently.  It took Mrs. Boothroyd some time to figure out that her young son had been the one who changed the program but instead of scolding him for destruction of library property, like some of the patrons wanted, she spoke to her husband and together they bought him his first computer that he could use in whatever way he wished.

Soon Cris’ father was bringing home old computer parts from his office and the young boy took them apart and put them back together in new and interesting ways.  He found himself fascinated by computers, circuitry and all things technological.  With the advent of the mobile phone, Cris expanded his knowledge to those devices as well, developing one of the first smart phones, well ahead of anyone in Silicon Valley.  When he entered uni at age eighteen, he was so far beyond his peers that he decided against a studying computer science, finding it dull and uninteresting to do something so remedial.  Instead, he turned his focus to art history and English literature, enjoying the analyzation of brush strokes and words compared to ones and zeroes.

He never did turn his back on computers though, always tinkering with things in his dormitory and willing to helps students with problems for a small fee.  For a larger fee, he could take care of larger problems such as bad grades or speeding tickets.  His criminal activities never went beyond the petty and he never anticipated that anyone would even notice the small crimes he committed. As he progressed through university, Cris didn’t give much thought to what he was doing.  Afterall, he was just a student trying to pay the bills.  His electrical bill in particular was much higher than it should have been.  

Two weeks away from commencement, a summons came for him to attend a meeting in the dean’s office.  Cris was an unexceptional student.  He loved his studies but writing was never going to be his strong suit, whether it be in fiction or essays.  The best he could hope for were the professors who recognized his passion and chose to overlook the technical flaws in the papers he turned in.  There was no chance of being on honour roll or getting any commendations so the call to the office was unnerving to say the least.

It was there that Cris met the formidable woman known simply as M.  There was hardness in her eyes that had the already small young man shrinking back, wishing that he had never set foot in the office.  However, standing just behind her was a man only a little older than himself.  He had kind eyes and a soft smile, one that spoke of understanding and compassion.  While the woman was the one who did all the talking, mentioning his illegal activities and everything they knew about him, Cris found himself distracted by the man who was politely trying not to laugh as the student ignored one of the most powerful people in the country.

When M offered him a job instead of arresting him on the spot, Cris finally managed to direct his attention firmly on her.  “You are offering me a job?  Are you crazy?” he demanded while the dean - who had been sitting in the corner mentally writing the press release regarding the arrest of one of their students as a cyber terrorist- yelled practically the same thing.  With a nod, the young man behind M escorted the sputtering dean from the office, leaving Cris alone with M and without her distracting assistant to take his attention away.

“Yes, I am offering you a job.  I understand that this is probably unorthodox but I have never been one for following the rules simply because they exist.  What you have managed to do with limited resources is nothing short of remarkable and so I would like to give you a chance to test your skill with the resources of the British government.”  He opened his mouth to speak but M held up her hand to silence him.  “There will be restrictions of course.  You will start as an intern and report to the second in command of the Quartermaster’s branch. You will be on a contract which will dictate what you can and cannot do with your skills and if I find that you have put one toe over the line, you will be sent to prison and no one will ever hear from you again.  However, if this works out – which I believe that it will – then we will move you to a full technician position.”

Cris glanced around the wood paneled office, seeing the walls lined with books and the degrees hanging on the walls.  A life in academia with an office like this was not in his future.  He was not cut out for the writing and the research, not matter how passionate he was.  He knew there was no point in denying that his skills lay entirely with computers and programming, regardless of what his degree might read.  The job market for a middle of the class English Literature graduate was almost non-existent and if they had already caught on to his hacking, that would not longer be a viable career option.

With a solemn nod, he accepted her offer, holding out his hand to shake.  “I will do my best to live up to the expectations you have placed in me.”  He knew that was all he needed to say.  Accept the job and go on with your new career.  But as was often his problem, Cris acted before he thought and blurted out, “Does that cute guy who removed Dean Fergusson come with the job?” The moment he said it, he knew how wrong it was, hand flying to clamp over his mouth in a state of absolute horror.

M, for her part, merely raised an eyebrow.  “Villiers stays with me.  He is my assistant and I have no desire to either part with him or assign an assistant to an intern with a criminal record.”  Cris nodded, thankful that she took it so well. A light shifted in her eyes, and she continued,  “However, he is dreadfully single so perhaps that is something you can help him with.  On your own time.”  With that, M turned and strode from the office, “We will be watching you.  Report to Vauxhall Cross in three weeks time if you haven’t gotten yourself arrested by then” tossed over her shoulder as casually as commenting on the weather.  Cris sat, stunned expression frozen on his face until the dean returned to unceremoniously push him from the office.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was a cold crisp day when Cris set foot inside Vauxhall Cross for the first time. He knew he would remember that for all time, the way his cheeks stung from the wind whipping the chill against his skin and the way the receptionist had looked at his parka over his suit as if there was no way someone as young as him could possibly be in the right place.

Taking his name with a terse nod, the receptionist pointed at some chairs in the well-appointed yet sterile lobby. “Wait over there,” he said with disinterest. “Someone will be down to get you shortly.” Cris simply nodded, wandering in the direction of the chairs but filled with too much nervous energy to sit down.

What he had been doing in uni was technically illegal. He had known that when he started but seeing how getting people out of traffic violations or adjusting their grades slightly was hardly terrorism, he thought nothing of it at the time. In fact until the woman showed up in the Dean’s office and practically threatened him into a job, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with it really. Like jaywalking or putting change in other people’s parking meters. How MI6 had gotten involved was still beyond him. If nothing else, it should have been MI5 considering all of his crimes had taken place inside the United Kingdom but nothing could be done for that now. They had caught him and offered him a chance to prove himself to not be the threat he easily could have been. And for that chance, Crispin Boothroyd had walked into the hornet’s nest itself, unsure if the queen bee had been speaking the truth or if this was a test – a test he was unsure whether he was passing or failing by showing up.

For twenty minutes he stood there, analyzing everything to the smallest detail. Why had they chosen shades of white and grey for the décor in here? Was there a reason they wanted the greatest spy agency in the UK, or possibly the world, to look more like a hospital or a prison than an office building housing some of the greatest minds in the world? Everyone in London and a good portion of neighbouring countries and allies knew what the building was. It certainly wasn’t non-descript on the outside so Cris pondered the interior decorating, attempting to distract himself from the nerves that threatened to collapse him from the inside.

“Mr. Boothroyd?” came a strong voice from the door in the back. Cris’ eyes raised to meet those of a man, older than himself, holding a clipboard and looking entirely bored with the entire proceedings. “My name is William Tanner. I am the Chief of Staff here and M has sent me to get your paperwork in order before we take you to the bunker.” The words were said with a professional tone as if completely natural and Cris was indeed the only one who balked at talk of being taken to the bunker.

“B-bunker?” he stammered, stepping forward, briefcase in hand. There was nothing but some snacks and a pen in the briefcase but it seemed professional so he brought it along. Biting on his lip, Cris followed Tanner through the door, his footfalls echoing through the sterile lobby before entering the much cozier appearing interior halls.

Tanner didn’t look back as he walked, “The bunker is where the quartermaster’s branch is located. Q has a tendency to blow things up and so we have found that it is safer to keep everything related to his work in an explosion proof bunker.” Finally he glanced over his shoulder, “I shouldn’t think you would need to worry. They don’t normally test munitions on rookies. I have been wrong in the past though.”

That did little to settle Cris’ nerves and he said nothing as he walked, wondering if running truly would have been the better of the two options. Sure, MI6 would have found him eventually but at least he would have been less likely to blow himself up on the job. There were so many questions running through his mind but he held his tongue, wanting to get a better feel for the building before letting all his thoughts spill.

The ride in the lift was quiet and tense, at least to the young man who thought every floor ticking away was counting off the remainder of his life. They exited finally at the bottom most floor, though there were unlabeled buttons underneath that suggested secrets lay beyond the cement they were walking on. Only once inside Q-Branch did Cris’ mind switch from fear to interest. There were computers and screens everywhere, with people coding with single-minded determination. Through bulletproof glass, he could see a shooting range with numerous weapons lined up in front of a technician. And an ominous door labeled “DO NOT ENTER. MUNITIONS BUNKER” had him dying to open and see what it was like.

The door they did enter was like any other, with a single letter Q written on it. Tanner gave a sharp knock and then let himself in, Cris following silently behind.  “Ah, Mr. Tanner. Right on time I see,” said an elderly man behind the desk. With the goggles on his head and the lab coat covering his tall body, he looked every bit the mad scientist Cris had imagined him to be. However, the posh accent softened the effect and Cris took a liking to him immediately. “You must be Mr. Boothroyd. Come in. You certainly gave my technicians a run for their money. If the police force in Leeds hadn’t issued a complaint about the lack of revenue from traffic stops, we would never have caught you. But bygones, bygones. You are here now and I am certain you will make a terrific asset to the team.”

“He hasn’t yet completed his paperwork yet, Q. You can have him shortly, I just wanted to let you know that he had arrived and if you wished to start setting up the tests for him, he should be available for you by noon.” Tanner opened his file that he carried, showing numerous forms that Cris was already dreading. Paperwork was the worst and he had a dislike for anyone who forced him to do it, causing a dark glare to form on his face as he looked from the papers to Tanner and back again.

Q simply laughed, “It seems young Mr. Boothroyd shares my opinion on your bloody forms, Tanner. Just leave them here and we will get to them when we have time.” Tanner took his dismissal with a light smirk and left the file sitting on Q’s desk. “Now, he wasn’t joking about having tests for you but I don’t need time to have them set up as I have been anticipating your arrival all morning.”

“All morning, sir? It is only half nine.”

“Yes, well, I haven’t been home in a few days so you will pardon me if my sense of time is a bit off. Come along.”

The tests turned out to be a hands-on introduction to everything that fell under Q-Branch’s purview. Cris managed to get the Walther apart but could not put it back together in a working fashion. He declined even attempting anything with munitions for fear of losing a limb. Q remarked that he did quite well on the car work, commenting they may have a place for him in the garage. However, once they got to the programming, the young man was really able to shine. There was no doubt as to what his strength was and soon enough, he was fitted with a desk with the other programmers and left to tackle an issue regarding double-oh agents’ emails becoming unencrypted if they used certain words. As he felt the keys under his fingers, hearing typing from all around the room, Cris thought that this place might not be as bad as he originally thought.

“What have we here?” came a distinctively female voice. “Fresh meat.” Seeing as how Q had informed him that he was the first new employee they had in months, Cris felt secure in believing those words were directed at him. He turned in his seat and looked up at a determined woman glaring down on him. “Q gives me a new tech and doesn’t even tell me his name. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.”

“Cris,” he replied, standing and offering his hand. “Cris Boothroyd. I just started today, which I’m sure you realize since you work here.” His cheeks flushed and he cursed his pale skin. “Sorry, not really used to having a supervisor yet, Miss...?”

“You can call me R. I’m second in command of the branch and directly responsible for this department in particular. I will be the one you report to.”

Cris couldn’t hold back the smirk as he shook her hand. “What is it with this agency and giving people letters for titles? M, Q and now R. Don’t tell me I will be known as C or something.”

“Of course not. C works for MI6 and no one would want to be associated with him. No, you can be Boothroyd for now, though that may cause confusion as we used to have someone by that name. Play your cards right and you may get a letter some day.” There was an amused tone to her voice and Cris knew that the two of them would get along just fine. “Now, back to work, Boothroyd. We don’t pay you to sit around gabbing.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” he grinned and turned back to his computer.

The day flew by as they tend to do when busy learning new things and Cris heard nothing from any of the people who had taken him under their wing so to speak for most of the day. In fact, he didn’t see any of them again until R’s voice sounded in the room from the far end. “Boothroyd? Yeah, second desk from the right up by my office,” he heard her say and he turned, wondering who was coming to see him.

Met with deep brown eyes and a soft smile, Cris’ breath caught in his throat as he recognized the man who had been with M at their first meeting. “Sir?” he mumbled, still unsure of the man’s name as they had never been properly introduced.

“I’m here to collect your paperwork. Tanner informed me that you should have it completed by now.” It was obvious that he had no illusions about said forms being filled out but it was still his duty to ask.

Cris looked chastened and gave a half shrug, “Honestly, I haven’t seen them since I left Q’s office. They may be still sitting on his desk.”

“More than likely used for target practice by now,” the man sighed. “Luckily, I came prepared.” He handed a file to Cris. “please get these completed before the start of work tomorrow. If you give them to R, she will actually get them to me, unlike a certain head of this department.” He gave a terse nod and practically ran from the room, leaving Cris baffled and uneasy. Had he said something wrong?

That feeling only intensified as R walked up to him, a curious look on her face. “What did you say to Villiers? I’ve never seen him act like that before.”

“I’m not sure. Just told him that Q still had my paperwork so he gave me new ones and then took off. That isn’t normal for him?”

“Not at all. Especially since you were talking about incomplete paperwork. Yelling about that is one of his favourite past times.” SHe pursed her lips and thought for a moment. “Maybe he likes you. That would be good for him. I don’t think that man has had a date since he started here.”

She turned and wandered off as well, leaving the poor new employee baffled and curious if this was how every day at MI6 was going to be. But if there was a chance that man, Villiers, was interested, then Cris was certainly looking forward to coming back the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

Day blended into day and soon, Cris found himself not to be the ‘new guy’ but a valued member of the team.  His skills with the computer set him heads above the rest and soon he was second only to R in priority for the most important programming jobs.  Not only did he excel in programming but Q regularly assigned him to other areas, insisting that he be able to help wherever needed in the department.  He brought new ideas to the firearms division and even managed to achieve some success in munitions though he still feared blowing off a finger or other appendage.

Not only was life in the department going well for the young man, but things outside of it had improved as well.  Q had seen a kindred spirit in Cris and took him under his wing, becoming not only a boss and a mentor but a father figure as well.  The two could often be found working long hours side by side in Q-branch with the only light to be found shining from the computer on their work station.  At MI6, Cris had found a home and a family, both of which had been missing from his life for a long time.

The words of both M and R still hung over Cris’ head, the thought that both women had some hope that he would be the one to fill some gap in Mr. Villiers life.  But while the two men worked well together, Cris had never gotten the impression that he was anything more than another Q-branch minion to M’s assistant.  He had begun to think that everyone else were seeing things because there was just nothing there.

Sure, his second day, when he still hadn’t completed his paperwork, Tim had insisted they eat lunch together so Cris would do the forms while he watched, making it easy for him to be assured that they were done.  However, instead of working, the two had spent the entire hour (plus a little extra) talking about their lives and childhoods, reveling in the fact that they had grown up in the same city.  R had smiled knowingly when Cris had hurried back in after that lunch and barked at him to keep his romantic interests from affecting his work.

There had also been a mission where Cris’ hacking expertise had been called upon by M and Tim and Cris spent most of the night making sure that 004 would have complete access to everything she needed the next morning.  Q had found the two of them slumped over the desk, Tim’s arm resting on Cris’ chair as they both slept through 004’s first attempted call in.  Q made a comment that afternoon that he was happy Cris and Tim had found each other which led to a rather uncomfortable conversation where Cris assured him that there truly was nothing going on and perhaps his boss would be better off not listening to R’s insistence otherwise.

No, there was nothing really there, even if Cris hoped there would be.  Tim was kind and polite to everyone, with an easy smile and a laugh that made Cris’ stomach flop in happiness.  Yes, he had it bad but that was all there was to it.  Of that, Cris was sure.  

 

_To: Crispin Boothroyd_  
_From: Timothy Villiers_  
_Date: 2004 Jul 17, 18:23  
_ _Subject: Dinner?_

_M has decided to shock everyone and go home at a reasonable hour.  As such, I find myself without any plans for dinner.  Ms. Moneypenny mentioned that you were still in the building so I thought you might wish to get some dinner as well.  Tell Q you need to eat and he can’t keep you captive all night._

_Tim_

The email caught Cris off guard and he stared at the screen, a smile spreading across his face.  He hadn’t had dinner yet either and the thought of spending an hour with the other was well worth the break in work.  Without bothering to respond, Cris grabbed his jacket and made his way up to the administrative office, heart pounding in his chest even as he told himself that Villiers was simply settling for the person who was convenient.

“I would love dinner,” he smiled as he stepped into the office, hoping he had made the right call not responding first.  The smile that spread across Tim’s face certainly made Cris feel better, as if the man was truly thrilled to see him.  His heart pounded harder causing Cris to worry briefly that Tim would notice his chest moving under the pressure.

Grabbing his own jacket as well as the half dozen phones and earpieces he carried with him at all times, Tim pushed himself away from his desk.  “Glad to hear it.  There is a new Thai place around the corner.  Does that sound good?  If not, there are plenty of other options.”

“Thai is great.  My favourite actually.”  Cris’ smile threatened to tear his face in half, it had grown so wide.  “I order it a lot and take it home after work.  I’m afraid that I am a terrible cook and find it easier to eat slightly cold noodles than to risk burning down the building by making something myself.”

The easy banter continued as the two men made their way to the lift and by the time they stepped out onto the street, Cris had forgotten he had ever been worried.  Every time the two of them were together, it felt as if they had known each other forever.  Conversation flowed unrestricted and aside from confidential topics which could not be discussed outside of work, there seemed to be no topic left untouched. 

The restaurant turned out to be a small place which had just opened and hadn’t gotten the following some of the larger places enjoyed.  Only two other tables were occupied, so Cris and Tim found themselves seated at a table near the window, the street light only adding to the ambience already provided by the flickering candles and dim overhead lamps.  Everything about the place screamed _cozy_ and _romantic_ and Cris found himself inspired to take the seat closest to Tim instead of directly across from him.

As they ordered, the two discovered that they liked to eat the same meal, panaeng extra spicy, with chopsticks but a cup of Earl Grey.  Both blushed, looking away as they ordered the same meal and as Cris admired the reddish colour over his companion’s cheeks, he realized that maybe this wasn’t as one sided as he once thought.

Dinner continued, the men leaning closer as they continued to speak, forgetting that anyone else was there.  Slowly the restaurant grew darker and both looked up to see the staff waiting to leave, turning off the lights as they stared at the two men obviously lost to only each other as midnight came and went.  With an embarrassed grin, Tim paid for both their meals with a substantial tip, an apology for keeping them so late.

“Please, let me pay for my meal,” Cris pleaded as they left the restaurant, neither seeming to be in any hurry to leave the other’s side.  “You don’t have to pay for me.”  Tim knew how much he made but Cris still felt the need to argue.

Tim simply shook his head, “I asked, I pay.  That’s the way it works, isn’t it?”  His eyes were wide, pleading with Cris to realize what he was saying.  This wasn’t just a dinner between colleagues to Tim any more than it was to him.  A soft smile met Tim’s gaze and Cris gave him a quick nod. 

“I’ll get next.  If you wish for there to be a next.”  This time it was his turn to silently beg, hoping beyond hope for a nod in return.  A nod that never came.

The two stared, standing in front of the now closed restaurant, eyes locked on each other as Cris felt his heart dropping.  Perhaps he had read too much into it and there wouldn’t be a second date?  Maybe this was his one and only chance and he didn’t realize it until it was over.  But while he panicked, Tim had other ideas and with a quick smirk, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Cris’.

Tim’s lips were warm and pliant against his and the moment Cris’ mind caught up, he kissed him in return.  His partner tasted of garlic and spice but Cris could only think of how wonderful it felt to press his body against the other, lacing his fingers into Tim’s hair, sighing happily when they finally break apart for breath.  “I take it there will be a second date?” he asked breathlessly, grinning like a fool and feeling happier than he had in months, if not years or his entire life. 

“Unless you would prefer just to elope tonight?” The quip caused Cris’ heartrate to increase but he grinned and shook his head.  “Pretty sure M and Q would have us killed if they weren’t there at the wedding.  Maybe we should start with a film and work up to happily ever after?”

Even as he said that, both men seemed to believe that maybe happily ever after had already begun.


	4. Chapter 4

Word of the relationship between one of the technicians in Q-Branch and M’s own beloved assistant traveled quickly through MI6.  One did not work at in espionage if you wished to keep secrets.  The truth was, however, that they did very little to hide it.  Kisses stolen in passing, Tim’s hand resting lightly on the back of Cris’ neck as they bent over a computer looking at numbers.  Both Qand M chastised their employees but the indictments were half-hearted.  Even if romantic relationships between employees of MI6 were forbidden, the two managers appeared almost as thrilled with the relationship as the men involved in it.

Despite the relationship, or maybe because of it, Cris worked even harder than before, quickly moving up in Q-branch and when R accepted a position with MI5, Cris Boothroyd replaced his name with a letter.  Q was thrilled to have his protege as his second in command and Cris enjoyed learning new aspects of the job, even being tasked with developing an exploding pen that one of the double-oh agents had requested.  At that point in their careers, Cris and Tim were as happy as could be, but outside of the office they were even happier.

It had only taken a few months of dating before Cris left behind the small one bedroom flat he had been living in to move into Tim’s much more spacious home.  It wasn’t far from MI6 which meant shorter commutes and a better chance that one or both would go home to sleep on occasion: usually both, together.  Tim’s space became crowded with computers and books, as well as Cris’ two cats, and for a man who had always lived alone, he found that he appreciated the company.  

The first time M and Mr. Mansfield came over for dinner, Cris was certain that he would pass out but he saw the side of their boss that so few others had and realized just what his boyfriend saw in the head of their agency.  Tim had cooked, Cris cleaned up afterward and both were regaled with stories of the Mansfield’s early life, before she lost her name to a letter like Cris had done.  They had laughed over a chocolate dessert Tim had made and Cris knew that somehow, he had found the perfect life.

The two settled into a comfortable routine.  Tim continued to cook as Cris proved to be completely incapable of it so he took on cleaning duties.  It was safer for everyone that way.  In the night, even if they started on opposite sides of the bed, the two would find each other somewhere in the middle.  They would travel to and from work together, having synchronized their schedules as best as they could and often spent nights curled together on the couch, reading or watching films.   And on one of those nights, their lives began to change forever.

Cris had been horrified to learn that Tim had never seen _Singing in the Rain_ and insisted that he not go any long without seeing what he thought to be one of the finest films ever made.  Takeaway lay discarded on table in front of them and they lay at opposite ends of the sofa, legs tangled in the middle with a blanket thrown over both of their laps.  Cris mouthed along with most of the words, lost to the music and world that he knew so well.  When Tim got up to get them some popcorn, Cris nodded mindlessly, not taking his eyes from the screen.  

As the characters sang about staying up all night, Cris finally turned to smile at Tim when he returned, a bowl of popcorn in his hands.  The bowl was sat in Cris' lap and when he reached for the first kernels, his hand encountered a small velvet box instead.  In that moment, the world stood still.  If they were still singing on the screen, it was lost to both of the men in the room  The world narrowed to the small box clasped tightly in Cris' hands.  

"Tim?"  His voice sounded small to both of them but held so much emotion.  His eyes were already filling with tears as he hoped and prayed that he wasn't imagining this, that this was truly happening.  Maybe he had fallen asleep to enjoy the happiest dream ever.

Tim’s face mirrored Cris’.  Teary eyes and hopeful expectation on his features as he slid to one knee the moment Cris noticed the box.  “I always thought that all I needed was my work.  I had M and my job and that was enough.  And then you appeared and threw everything I had ever known about myself out the window.  I love you with all my heart and so I only have one question to ask you.  Crispin Marshall Boothroyd, will you marry me?”

Opening his mouth to speak, no words came out, Cris so overwhelmed by emotion that he couldn’t form words.  Instead,  a quick nod of the head as the tears that had pooled in his eyes finally started to fall.  Tim began to cry as well and Cris threw himself into his lover’s arms, where the two cried together, lost to everything but each other.

~ ~ ~

The wedding was a small affair only a few weeks later, attended only by a small handful of people including the Mansfields, Q and a couple other high ranking officials from MI6.  M had asked for no agents or technicians to be present, something they both easily agreed to.  It would set a poor precedent if she was seen sanctioning something that was still technically against the rules.  Unfortunately, being a governmental agency meant that rule changes were slow to occur and while M had requested permission to do away with that particular rule, it continued to stand.

With missions always going on, there was no time for a big ceremony complete with reception and honeymoon.  Besides, with no living family, both Cris and Tim had decided to forgo tradition in favour of being married quickly, knowing how fast things could change in the espionage world and wanting that piece of paper binding them together.  Instead of a large church wedding on a Saturday afternoon, the two were married on the roof of MI6 on random Thursday, overlooking the city and presided over by Bill Tanner who apparently had the license to perform ceremonies.  

Q had decorated the roof with fairy lights under a tarp to keep them dry from the rain that threatened to fall throughout the wedding.  Despite the fact that it was midday, the clouds kept it dark enough that the lights cast a lovely glow over the assembled crowd.  There were no flowers, not wanting to explain their presence when they all had to return to work afterward.  But despite the casual, business attire of the grooms as well as all attendees, there was a festive and proper atmosphere that made it feel like a real wedding.

Cris and Tim had planned the whole ceremony themselves so all Bill had to do was read what they had given him.  They were both perfectionists and the thought of leaving the most important day of their lives to anyone else was unthinkable.  The two men stood in front of the assembled crowd, eyes focused only on the one in front of him.  The vows were simple, “I take you to be my partner for life. I promise above all else to live in truth with you and to communicate fully and fearlessly.  In a world full of secrets, you will know all of mine.  I give you my trust, my hand, and my heart.  And I pledge my love, devotion, faith and honor as I join my life to yours."

The rings they wore were gold, Cris’ rose gold while Tim’s was white, and both had an intricate design of swirls and loops etched into them.  Everyone politely turned their heads when M stifled a soft sob as Cris slid the ring on Tim’s fingers though the grooms shared a private smile at the sound.  As they stood, waiting for the ceremony to be over, Cris ran his thumb over Tim’s ring, feeling the cool metal against his _husband_ ’s warm skin and felt he would never be happier than he was in that moment right there.

Everyone returned to work afterward, easily switching from the celebratory atmosphere they felt on the roof to the professional feeling of Q-Branch and the administrative offices.  However, after they were done with work that night, Cris and Tim invited everyone to join them at the pub for drinks.  They drank, they laughed and in the end, the newlyweds went home together, arm in arm and feeling nothing but bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize to those who have been waiting for this chapter for so long. My muse for this fic comes and goes but I hope the chapter was worth the wait. There is a chance that the next chapter won't be available until December, depending on how National Novel Writing Month treats me. But I promise, there is more.
> 
> Also, two more chapters until James! Told you it was a slow build for 00Q. -J


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be some smut and fluff. I owe it to you considering what is coming in Ch 6....

~ One Year Later ~

Cris blinked his eyes open into the early morning sunlight streaming through their bedroom window.  Despite the hour, it was still sleeping in for the two who were often up before the sunrise in order to be at work.  But this rare day off for them both was something they had been anticipating for some time. 

The solid warmth of his husband lay pressed against his back, soft and pliant in his sleep. Cris smiled and turned to face his husband.  It had been a year of happiness for them both but something had been missing and today, they planned on rectifying that.  Not before enjoying the peaceful morning together.

The down duvet rested low on his husband’s waist and Cris’ eyes trailed down his chest, feeling the first stirrings of lust already this morning. Hand cupping Tim’s face, Cris kissed him gently, causing Tim to stir and eventually open his eyes.  Still groggy, he grinned at Cris, sleep still clinging to him, and chased his lips for another kiss.  “Good morning,” he muttered, tucking his head under Cris’ chin and pressing more kisses to his neck.  “Why are you awake already?  We don’t have to be there until eleven.” 

While true, there were other things Cris wanted to do before they went to their appointment.  Instead of answering, he rolled them both so he lay on top of Tim, the whole of their bodies pressed together.  Cris grinned at him as he ground their hips against one another.  The motion pulled an involuntary moan from Tim who wrapped his arms around Cris to hold him flush against him.  “Any more questions?” Cris giggled, kissing and nipping at the sensitive, sleep-warmed skin of Tim’s neck. 

“No, quite clear, thank you,” Tim moaned once more, head tipped back and hips rolling lightly against Cris’.  A gasp came from Cris as their lengths rubbed together, sparks of pleasure bursting behind his eyes.  Even after a year together, Cris found that sex with Tim only grew better with time.  He looked forward to a life of making each other feel as good as possible.

Snaking a hand between them, fingers curled around them both, stroking softly at first while their gasps were muted by the other’s lips.  Soon they found a rhythm, each man thrusting together, lost to everything but their lover’s body.

“Have me?” Cris’ question held many meanings and the answering smile was more loving than lustful. 

Tim pulled Cris in for a kiss, their lips brushing with only the barest pressure.  “For all the days of my life,” he replied with a smile.  Heart pounding in his chest, Cris deepened the kiss, their tongues sliding together; a kiss of promises for the future.

After being together for as long as they had, prep work was a quick thing, Cris rocking back to take Tim’s fingers past the knuckles while his husband kissed his lower back, whispering sweet nothings about his beauty, his intelligence, his perfection.  The heat was already starting to build in Cris’ belly when he sat on Tim’s hips and took all of his husband inside him.  As their bodies came together, he knew he was experiencing the very definition of making love.  Their bodies rocked in a slow tandem, fingers linked together, sharing kisses and breath.

Feather light kisses peppered Cris’ skin as Tim held his hips and thrust gently up into him.  Each gasp, every moan was like music; the truest expression of love and pleasure either man had ever felt.  As pleasure and pressure began to coil inside them, their movements took on a more demanding pace, Cris’s hands white knuckled as he held Tim’s shoulders to keep from losing himself completely.

A gasp was torn from his lungs when Tim flipped them over, back hitting the mattress and husband looming over him. All he could do was hold on, fingers digging into Tim’s  skin as he arched off the bed.  Hot release shot between them, his body clenching tightly around Tim who followed a moment later.  Eyes squeezed shut, a look of absolute bliss on his face, Tim cried out with Cris’ name before collapsing on top of him, kissing the sweat-salty skin.  “Good morning,” Cris laughed, running his hand through Tim’s hair. 

Tim’s chuckle resonated in Cris’ chest and Tim pushed himself up just enough to kiss Cris properly.  “We should get up like that every morning.”

“You tell M that we need to come in late so we can have sex every morning.  And let me know when you are going to do it.  I want to watch via CCTV.”  Cris laughed, the motion reminding him that Tim was still inside him and causing them both to moan. 

Slipping out, Tim cleaned them both carefully before pressing a kiss to Cris’ forehead.  “You rest for a few more minutes.  You don’t get nearly enough sleep.  I’ll shower first, alright?”  Pulling the duvet up around him, luxuriating in the feel of the soft fabric on his skin, Cris laid back against the pillows, a smile on his face.  That really was the best way to start the day, but there were other things happening later on that would keep the smile permanently on his face.  Nerves fluttered in his stomach as Cris looked at the clock, time seeming to tick along more slowly than usual, the way it often did when you are expecting something good.

As the shower started in the other room, Cris pulled himself from bed.  While he knew he was supposed to be relaxing, tea was calling his name and he padded nude to the kitchen.  Their cats wound around his ankles, soft fur tickling his skin and insistent mews demanding breakfast.  “Alright, alright you little beggars,” he laughed, turning on the kettle for tea.  “I’ll feed you in just one moment.”

That was how Tim found them ten minutes later, Cris naked and drinking his tea and the cats munching their food happily, snuffles and grunts from them the only sound.  “Go take a shower.”  He swatted at Cris with the towel he had been using to dry his hair.  The smell of their shampoo hung in the air and Cris wrapped his arms around Tim’s waist.  

“What?  I’m not dressed properly?”  A high pitch squeal as he danced out of the way of Tim’s snapping towel and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.  Warm water cascading down his body, relaxing both his muscles and mind, Cris leaned against the cool tile wall of the shower.  Though there was still a couple hours before their appointment, Cris hurried to finish his shower, anxious for the afternoon to progress.

As he was drying off, Cris could hear one of Tim’s phones ring in the other room.

“Ma’am?”

“You do realize I have the day off today, right ma’am?”

“Tanner has all of that information.  I made sure of it before I left yesterday.”

“Yes, ma’am.  We will call you as soon as we find out.”

“Okay, I will call Mr. Mansfield as well.  I know your day is quite busy.  Do try and get home before eight tonight.  He has dinner planned for you.”

“Same to you, ma’am.  I will.”

While it seemed wrong to eavesdrop, Cris knew Tim would tell him everything; not that he hadn't already guessed it for himself.  His bare feet padded across their hardwood floors, “What was it that M needed?  Everything okay at work?”

“Yes, fine.  She wanted to know where those reports were about 006’s mission last week.  She already knew, that much was obvious, but I think she just wanted to find out about the results of our appointment.  I suppose I neglected to mention that it wasn’t until this afternoon.” 

Cris grinned, pulling Tim into a hug.  “I think she is as excited as we are.  Q too.  He keeps texting me.  I know he wants to find out.”

“We get to find out first.  Then they can know.”  Silently, Cris agreed.  For a few moments, Cris wanted it to be just between them, their own little secret in the world.

Faster than they both found possible, they were seated in the waiting room, hands linked together while they waited to be called back for their appointment.  “Villiers-Boothroyd?” The nurse called and the two men followed her back, their steps and the subtle shuffle of paper at the desk the only noises in the muted room. 

As neither of them was the patient, Tim and Cris were led to an office as opposed to an examination room.  The solid oak desk and bookshelves filled with medical tomes did little to stop their anxiety and they keep sneaking glances at one another, thankful the other was there with him.

“Misters Villiers-Boothroyd?”  The voice, warm and friendly reminded Cris of a female version of his mentor Q and he looked forward to sharing the news – hopefully happy – with him before the day was out.  “Welcome.”  Sitting at her desk, the doctor pulled out a file with their names on it.  “I realize that you are probably both anxious for results so let’s cut to the chase.  The procedure was a success and the surrogate is confirmed pregnant.”

Tears burned in their eyes and they hugged each other tight.  They were going to be fathers, something both men and wanted since they were children.  “Thank you,” Tim managed, the first of them to get their voice back.  “This is the best news I have heard since Cris agreed to marry me.”

The doctor smiled kindly, “This kind of thing is my favorite part of the job.  As a fertility specialist, you often have to see couples at their worst so this is what makes the pain of that worthwhile.”  She paused, looking at an image in her hand, before sliding it across the desk to them.  “But there is more.  As is often the case with fertility treatments, it seems that you are expecting twins.  Both babies look healthy and well developed for this early stage of the pregnancy so I have complete confidence that in seven and a half months, you will be holding two beautiful babies in your arms.”

She left the two alone with the grainy black and white image of two small blobs, a picture that wouldn’t be winning any awards for photographic excellence but still appeared to Tim and Cris to be the most beautiful picture in the world.  “Two?” Cris asked, his breath raspy with emotion.  A few tears had fallen and he scrubbed them away with the back of his hand, though the smile on his face threatened to become permanently attached. 

“We’ll have to tell everyone.  They will be so excited for us.”  They both knew, without her ever saying it, that M would spoil their babies rotten.  She never had children of her own and seemed almost as excited as they were when they told her about their plans.  Tim continued, “How do you think Q will react?”

Cris shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine.  At least about the twins.  We know he will be happy for us, though.” Cris thought warmly of his boss and mentor, wondering how he had been lucky enough to have stumbled into a job that he excelled in, one where he met the love of his life and also found a surrogate family who supported him. 

Pulling out his phone, Cris sent off a quick text to Q as well as the former R (now back to being Marie since MI5 didn't give her a position with a letter) while Tim did the same for both M and Mr. Mansfield as well as Bill Tanner.

_[text; Q] Two of them?  God help us all.  Congratulations, R._

_[text; Mr. Mansfield] Tell us what you need and we’ll make sure you have it.  You realize Olivia will never stop talking about this now._

_[text; Marie] Twins?!? OMG, Cris congratulations!_

_[text; M] I don’t know how I will survive without you while you are on your parental leave, Villiers, but those babies couldn’t ask for better fathers._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the apologies for this taking so long between updates. Life got crazy for awhile but now I have a sort of normalcy and I am going to try and get back into my fics now. Thanks for sticking with me!


	6. Skyfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of Skyfall shake Cris' life to the core.

A Tuesday like any other, Tim and Cris took the tube into work early.  James Bond was dead (again) and that meant extra paperwork for Tim as they closed out his career as 007 and began assembling the information needed to appoint a new one.  New double-oh agents led to long hours for Villiers and Cris tended to simply work through until they could both go home.

With M out of the office – having a meeting with a minister in another part of town – Villiers was enjoying the additional freedom.  Everything was filed and sorted when lunch rolled around and Cris managed to get away from Q-Branch to have the meal with his husband.  The two laughed and ate, discussing baby names for their children and plans for the weekend.  Neither could have expected what waited for them that afternoon.

Returning to his desk, Cris was confused to see an alert on his computer, an unidentified entity working on M’s computer in her office.  Knowing Villiers would have used his own account and would never allow anyone else access, he could only deduce it was a hacker, who got lucky with which computer they accessed.  If it was any other computer, Cris himself would have handled it but he didn’t have the clearance to work on M’s computer.  Only Q could do such a thing so as R, he alerted Q and went back to work, knowing his boss would take care of it.                             

The afternoon seemed to be flying by when he got a call from Q.  “R?  I may need you to come up here and look at this.  Someone has programmed a code into this computer I am unfamiliar with.  All it is doing is showing a cartoonish picture of M’s head right now but I worry it might do more damage if left in place.”

Cris chuckled, despite himself.  “If I didn’t know better, I would say that someone was playing a prank on M.  I don’t know anyone besides myself in the building who could have programmed such a thing, though.  Can you make a copy of the code and send it to me?  I can get to work on it right away.”

“Certainly, R.  I’ll print it off and have Villiers bring it down to you.  Don’t want to risk sending it through the email system.”  His voice sounded slightly farther away as he called,  “Tim?  Could you come in here for a moment?  I need you to take something to your husband.  There’s a good chap.  Just let me print this and….”

No words followed.  Only a massive amount of noise and then silence.  At least on the line.  The whole building had shaken and people were running in every direction as alarms went off and everyone went into emergency mode.  Everyone but R, who stood silently for a moment before bolting for the lifts, needing to get up to M’s office and make sure everything was alright.  When the lifts didn’t move, he took to the stairs.  Adrenaline pumping in his veins as he went up, flight after flight, fighting against the crowds going down to get out of the building.  The fire alarms didn’t bother him.  Neither did the flood of people he was moving against.  All that he could think of was that horrific noise and the fact that now, even three flights down, he could smell smoke. 

He never did make it to the top.  When the smoke became too much, he collapsed on the stairs, holding on to his last bit of hope that somehow, by some miracle, his husband had survived whatever had taken place.  And if he hadn’t survived, then maybe the smoke would take him too.  It was his last thought before he passed out.

He woke a couple hours later in a hospital bed, an oxygen mask firmly over his mouth and nose and an IV in his arm.  A moment passed and he was already struggling, trying to get out.  Cris needed to find Tim.  Needed to see his husband and assure himself he was alright.

 It was his screaming that alerted the nurses, screaming he didn’t even realize he was making.  “Mr. Boothroyd, please,” the nurse chided, adding a sedative to his IV.  “You are disturbing the patients and they need their rest.  Glad to see your awake, though.”  Her pleasant demeanor bothered him and he glared at her, still fighting to find the right words.

“Where is my husband?  Where is Timothy Villiers?  Or Q?  Or M?  I need to know what happened right now.”  Tremors shook his body as the words tumbled out. 

The nurse became solemn and shook her head.  I don’t know about any of those people or letters.  But there was an explosion at your work and they think it was a bomb.  There is a woman out here who will probably be able to explain more.  I’ll go track her down, shall I, love?    She left and Cris was left to process that information.  A bomb.  He had heard the explosion while on the phone with Q.  Tim had been in the room.  He couldn’t bring himself to follow that line of thought to the logical conclusion.

M walked in a few minutes later, followed by Tanner.  One look at her face told him everything he needed to know.  Shaking his head, Cris pleaded, “No!  Please, no.”  Tears were streaming down his face as he scrubbed roughly at them. 

“I’m sorry, Cris.”  A slightly hysterical part of his mind told him that he had never seen this side of M before, the side that had to comfort the families of those who lost their lives in service to MI6.  Never once did he consider he would be the one to receive the condolences.  “We are still trying to process everyone that was lost but Q and Tim were among the casualties.”  For a moment, her rock hard exterior cracked and Cris knew she was suffering greatly from the loss of her close friend and trusted assistant. 

Taking a deep breath, he watched M pull herself back together.  “We will find who did this and will bring them to justice.  But, first, I will need a new Quartermaster.  There is no one better qualified that you and no one more motivated to track down the terrorist.  You are, as of now, Quartermaster for MI6.  Tanner here will see that you get the paperwork tomorrow.  Today, go home and recover.  We will meet again in the morning to discuss where we go next.” 

And just like that, everything had changed.  Watching M’s retreating back, Cris felt emptiness and despair flood his mind.  Tim was gone.  Q was gone.  Cris had never even learned the man’s name.  Only when he was alone did he allow himself to weep.

~ ~ ~

The mantle of Q was passed on without ceremony. They met over at MI5 who begrudgingly lent some space to M while Six looked for new facilities.  Cris – Q, he had to keep reminding himself – worked there only one day before deciding he would prefer to do his work from home until a new Q-Branch was made.  The only time he ventured out of their now too-empty flat was when the bodies were on display.  He laid a poppy on Q’s coffin before sitting next to Tim’s, crying until M and Tanner arrived and they called a cab to send him home. 

While at home, Cris dedicated himself to tracking down Tim’s murderer.  He pulled all the information he could from Q’s computer now that he had access to everything.  M’s server contained bits of information and he tracked them back to their source.  Whoever was responsible would pay for what they did, for what they stole from him.  And from his children.    He tried not to think about them too much, the pain of knowing that they would never know their father was almost greater than the grief Cris was feeling for himself. 

After a week of solitude and seclusion, Cris ventured out once more.  Standing silently at M’s side, he stoically watched his mentor be lowered into the ground at a solemn ceremony with only a handful of people in attendance.  The next was harder and Mr. Mansfield had to physically hold him up as Tim was laid to rest and Cris wondered if his heart could ever heal from such pain.   He spent the night at their house that night, unable to stomach going home with the absolute knowledge that Tim would never again walk through that door.  If they hadn’t already started on the nursery, Cris would have considered moving out.

Of course – of course – two days later James Bond shows up again.  Cris had seen him before.  Everyone at Six knew of the mythical James Bond who could survive nearly anything and did.  They had never had a conversation, Cris having little to do with any of the agents and James having no need for a happily married computer nerd.  Cris’ job was more behind the scenes and that was how he had always liked it.  But James Bond had returned and soon enough he was released for field duty once more.  From what he had heard, Cris found this to be a minor miracle but he wasn’t about to question it.  They needed the best man on the job and like him or not, 007 was the best.     

M told him to meet with Bond but while they had new facilities, Q-Branch was in no state to handle the meeting.  Instead, Q chose the National Gallery, thinking that the neutral location would help calm the nerves he felt.  Seeing James Bond sitting there, he smiled to himself.  This was work.  This was easy.  And in the end, James Bond would find who did this. 

The meeting went off without a hitch, their banter even drawing a small smile from Q, something that had not happened since the explosion.  As he walked away, Q thought that maybe this was going to turn out alright.

It didn’t.

In his arrogance and determination to get the job done, Q released Tim’s killer right out from under their noses.  And as he helped Bond get M to safety, Q worried.  When communications were caught, he worried.  And when Bond returned to Six late that night but M did not, Q knew that his worries were justified.  That night he spent at the Mansfield’s once more, this time comforting his friend on the loss of his wife.  Together, they drained a bottle of Scotch, both widowers far before their time. 

The only small consolation for them both was that the killer was dead.  For Cris, he also had the knowledge that, if nothing else, Tim would live on in their kids.  A small bright spot in a world of darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for simply disappearing. I know I have been really bad about updating this fic but here you go. And BABIES.  
> Plus, this is the last chapter without 00Q, so that has to count for something, right?

Life goes on.

While seemed as if the world had crashed down around him, Cris marveled at how nothing had changed.  He still had a job to do.  The terrorists didn’t stop just because his husband was dead.  He continued to equip agents, sending them out in the field and hoping they returned.  The loss of one always sent him into a tailspin, requiring several days before he regained his composure enough to continue on as if everything was okay.

People noticed because they were trained to see everything that went on around them.  They noticed that Q hadn’t been the same since he took the position.  The soft smiles and jokes were replaced with a seriousness that ran contradictory to the youthful face.  Q was determined and driven, focused solely on making sure the agents had everything they needed in order to do their jobs as efficiently as possible.  And when they got home safe, they were graced with one of his smiles and a “Well, done.”

Life outside MI6 went on as well.  Cris didn’t go home for the first few days, unable to face an empty flat that once held so much life and happiness.  He and the cats slept in Q-Branch, arguing he needed to be there in case Bond needed help with anything.  Those who knew him saw through the charade but most just saw a dedicated employee.

A month after the explosion, he received an email.  The name of the sender brought tears to his eyes and his heart filled with bittersweet joy when he opened it to see the ultrasound of their two beautiful babies. 

“Congratulations, Papa,” it read under the picture.  “A son and daughter look forward to meeting you.”

He printed off the photo, folding it gently before leaving the flat.  Cris spent the afternoon at Tim’s grave, telling him about their children, about the son and daughter he would never get to know.  He did this every week.  An afternoon spent with his husband, even though Tim wasn’t there anymore. 

“You would love this picture,” he sighed, head resting against the headstone.  “You would tell me how beautiful they are, how they have my chin and your eyes.  I would tell you they are blobs with only the barest hint of human features.  You would slap my shoulder and we would laugh.” 

Tears streamed down his face and Cris bent forward, resting his head on his knees.  “I miss you.  I can’t do this without you.  I can’t do this alone, Tim.  You and Q and M.  You’re all gone.  Why am I the only one left?  Why do I have to be strong and keep going?” 

Cris looked at the photo in his hand.  “Because of them, I know.  Because I have a job to do, both as Quartermaster and father.  But it is hard, love.  It is so hard and I don’t know how.  I need you with me and you’re gone.  Why?  Why are you gone?”

~ ~

The new M was…different.  As Q, Cris had to work with him but he wasn’t a friend like the former M was.  Mallory was all business and while Cris could appreciate it, he worried about approaching him to ask for his parental leave when the twins were born.  Word would get around and he didn’t want to be the center of gossip, even if it was something as wonderful as the birth of his children.

There came a time, however, when he could put it off no longer.  The twins due date approached quickly and he needed the time off in order to be home with them.  Eventually, he would need to hire a nanny to watch offer the two when he returned to work but for the first couple months, Cris fully intended to be home with them.

“M, sir?” Q asked as Eve let him into Mallory’s office.  “I need to request a few months off.  I have filed all the paperwork but I know as a senior MI6 official, I need your approval before I can actually take the time.”

Mallory set the report he was reading down on his desk and looked at Q full on.  “Why do you need a few months?  Surely a few days would be enough for you.”  Q understood his hesitation.  No one in MI6 could what he did and his presence was often vital in ensuring a mission went according to plan.

But there were more important things in life than work.

“It is for parental leave, sir.  My twins are due at the end of the month and I would like to be able to spend some time at home with them before I have to go back to work full time.  If something of vital importance comes up, I can come in but I would like the time to be home with my children.”

M’s eyes softened instantly and he sat forward with a small smile on his face.  “I didn’t even realize you were married, Q.  Congratulations.  When is your wife’s due date?”

Swallowing, Q looked down at his hands for a moment before looking back up.  “Actually, we used a surrogate.  And I was married, sir.  But, my husband.”  His voice cracked and he took a moment to compose himself.  “My husband has a star on the wall downstairs.”

The wall to commemorate fallen agents of MI6, it used to be just another wall to Q.  Sure, he knew some of the men and women whose stars adorned the wall but it had never held such significance as it did now with his mentors and his husband represented there. 

“Q, I’m sorry.  It must have been recent.”  Then Mallory sighed with understanding.  “The bombing?”

Q nodded, unable to say more. 

“Will four months leave be enough for you?”  It was far more than Q was asking for but he wasn’t going to turn it down either. 

“That is more than enough, thank you, sir.”

“Of course, Q.  You didn’t take any time off after the bombing, did you?  I’ve read your file.  You stepped into the position of Quartermaster within hours of it being determined the last Q had perished.  You deserve some time off, both to spend it with your children as well as to mourn your husband.  If I lost my wife…”  Mallory trailed off and shook his head sadly.  “You have my condolences and my congratulations, as strange as that may sound.  When do you plan on starting your leave?”

Sighing sadly, Q finally met his eyes, “I was thinking next Friday would be my last day.  If they aren't on time, I can use the few remaining days to finish up things in the house.”

“Just make sure R is up to speed on everything she needs to know.  There is a good chance we will need to call you and get your help remotely but as much as it is in my power to do so, I’ll make sure you have those four months off.  You deserve it Q.”

“Thank you, sir.  And, if I might request one more thing, please don’t tell anyone why I am gone.  Most do not know I was married and only R, Eve and you know about the babies.  I would like to be able to come back and not worry about all the questions I may or may not be able to answer.”

“Of course.  My lips are sealed.”

Q left M’s’ office feeling lighter, knowing that he had one less thing to worry about.  R was well trained and could handle almost any situation.  Only the most difficult of hacking jobs would be beyond her so Q had no concerns about leaving the branch in her hands.  He would have four months with his children before he had to figure out how to juggle a demanding job and two small babies.  But, he figured after dealing with the double oh department, infant twins were going to be no problem at all.

Because nothing could ever go to plan, the twins were born the following Tuesday.  Cris got the call and stopped what he was doing.  “R, the branch is yours.  I will see you in four months.  That was the only warning any of the minions got before he was out the door, coat in hand. 

London traffic being what it was, Cris walked in just as the first baby was born, her cries ringing out in the small room as the newborn was taken to the scale to be weighed and cleaned.  Cris stood between the surrogate and the scale, holding the woman’s hand while keeping his eyes on his tiny daughter.  Only a few minutes later, his son was born as well, slightly smaller than his sister but still healthy and strong.

The phrase ‘love at first sight’ got tossed around too often in the common vernacular.  Cris had always thought it to be a trite euphemism for lust or desire.  But looking at the two screaming infants being cleaned and weighed, he knew that it did in fact exist.  He loved those two babies more than he had ever loved anything in his whole life.

“Do you have names for them?”  The nurse’s voice pulled him from his reverie and Cris nodded.  The nurse gently guided him to a chair to sit down and placed both of the babies in his arms.   

Looking at his daughter, Cris smiled, “Fiona Marie Boothroyd.”  He kissed her forehead and the little girl stilled, looking up at him with big green eyes.  He smiled down at her and kissed her nose before looking at her brother who had already fallen asleep.  “And Maxwell Timothy Boothroyd.”

“Those are lovely names,” the nurse grinned as she wrote them on the paperwork.  “Do they have any significance?” 

Cris nodded, “Fiona and Maxwell were the names my husband and I agreed on.  I always told my best friend Marie I would name my daughter after her, so Fiona Marie makes sense.  And, well, our baby boy deserves to carry the name of his Daddy, a man who loved him even if he never got to meet him.”

Tears fell from his eyes as Cris wished once more than Tim was there with him.  The tears fell on Max’s forehead like a baptism and somehow, Cris knew Tim was smiling down on them all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Bond and Q interacting.

The first few weeks, Q wondered if he could handle the stress of two infants.  Even with Tim there, he knew it would have been a struggle.  It appeared the children agreed to have opposite schedules, one of them waking just as the other fell asleep.  Never before had he been as tired as he was now.  Sleeping and eating fell by the wayside as he focused entirely on keeping his children fed and rested. 

He loved every minute of it.

The type of father who documented every moment, Q accumulated hundreds of photos in the first few weeks.  Eve sent a food service to his house on occasion to make sure he stayed alive.  She even called a few times, the first time with Fiona screaming in the background and he finally told her why he was taking so much time off.  After that, ‘Auntie Eve’ was over once a week, every Sunday, to check on the babies and their exhausted father.

“They’re starting to ask after you,” she said one night, Max dozing in her arms while Q held Fiona in his.  The nights when she could come over we're the best ones as far as he was concerned.  Even two hours with an extra set of hands made things run so much smoother.

“Who are?  I can’t imagine anyone even noticed I was gone.  I rarely leave my office when I’m there.”

She chuckled, “You underestimate your importance, Q.  The agents know something is wrong.  Quartermasters don’t just take four months off without a good reason.  I’ve managed to buy you some time but you might think about just telling them already.”

He paled, trying to imagine explaining the situation to his agents.  While they probably knew he was something other than straight, he really didn’t want them knowing his sad tale.  Emotions could be a disadvantage and in espionage, Q refused to give anyone an advantage over him.  “Like they would care too much.  As long as their equipment gets to them in one piece, they don’t care.  Just like they don’t care if they return it in one piece either.  Besides, I just don’t want them knowing about my personal life.”

“Q, if you don’t tell them, they are going to find out.  You know they will.” 

“Then let them,” he sighed.  “I’m not hiding it.  I’m just choosing not to share it.”  Eve raised a brow, completely unimpressed but turned her silent attention back to Max who was cooing in his sleep.

Eventually, Eve left and Cris tried to lay down to sleep while his babies dozed but Fiona woke almost immediately.  He sighed and picked her up, closing his eyes as they rocked in the chair in the nursery, and he wondered how he would ever survive these days until the kids finally learned to sleep through the night.

Or sleep at all.

Days blended into days and other than the ubiquitous doctor appointments the infants needed, there was no difference day in and day out.  So it didn't surprise Q when someone knocked on his door one evening.  It was probably Sunday and he’d simply lost track of time.  “Just a minute!”

He put Max in his bouncer and carried Fiona in his arms when he went to answer the door.  “Eve, just in time,” he grinned, throwing the door open without even looking at who stood on the other side.  “I’m not sure I have eaten all day.” 

A throat cleared and Q’s mouth went dry.  Slowly, he turned to see none other than James Bond standing in his doorway.  “You would think the Quartermaster would have better security on his flat.  You didn’t even look to see who was there before opening.”  The disappointment was evident and Q had to stop himself from shrinking back from the tone. 

“One, no one is supposed to know where I live which means someone let you into the personnel files and that person is fired the moment I get back.  Two, I’m on family leave for several more weeks, which means that there is no reason for you to be here.  Please see yourself out.  I have my hands full with two children already.  I do not need a third.” As he spoke, Fiona started to wail, her tiny voice seemingly magnified throughout the lofted flat.  “Fifi, please,” he whined, looking down at his daughter.  “Papa just wants to sleep for a few minutes.  That’s all I ask darling.”

Of course, that didn’t stop the little girl who continued to cry.  Q had almost forgotten about Bond when the other spoke up again, “When was the last time you slept, Q?” 

Q’s exhaustion was such that he answered directly instead of with a snide comment, “A full night?  Two months, maybe?  More than a couple hours here or there?  Two months.  I nap when I can but there are two of them and one of me and even working with you lot hasn’t been enough to train me for working with two infants.”

“Where is their mother?”  James looked around as if expecting a woman to pop out of one of the doorways any second.

Sighing, Q realized James had no intention of leaving anytime soon.  He nodded toward the living room and sat on the sofa, Fiona still crying in his arms.  He shushed her before turning back to James.  “The woman who gave birth to them is probably back home with her family in Greenwich.  As for any other parent who lives in the house, there isn’t one.”

James studied Q carefully and the quartermaster knew what he was seeing.  Cris was beyond exhausted.  His clothes were rumpled, his hair out of sorts.  Dark bags were visible on his pale skin under his eyes.  He didn’t realize the pair of wedding rings he always wore around his neck were resting on the outside of his shirt.  “What happened to your husband, Q?” The kindness and concern in the question caught Q off guard and he gaped at James for a moment before answering.

“Died in the bombing at MI6.  You probably knew him?  Tim Villiers?  He was M’s assistant.”  Tears burned in his eyes and he blinked them away, not wanting his agent to see him cry. 

“I didn’t know he was married,” James said thoughtfully.  “I always gave him a hard time when I got called into her office.  Pretty sure he hated me.  I sort of thought he hated everyone.”  He smiled at Q and for the first time, Cris could feel his heart thawing just a little from the grief.

He chuckled, “He was very serious about his job.  Anyone he thought was wasting M’s time would automatically be on his shit list.  But he loved her very much.  She was like a mother to him.  And to me, after we got married.  Mr. Mansfield came by to visit the babies a few days ago.  Said that’s what she would have wanted. Tim and M were both so excited about the children.”

They fell into a companionable silence, one Q never thought would be possible with James Bond.  Fiona had finally settled while they were talking, looking up at her father with big green eyes.  “She looks like you,” James commented, leaning over to look at the baby.  “What are their names? 

“This is Fiona Marie and that is Maxwell Timothy.”  The soft look on James’ face caught Cris by surprise and he finally asked, “Would you like to hold one?” 

James’ brow furrowed for a moment before he nodded.  “Actually, I have a better idea.  Tell me where the formula and the nappies are and I will watch them for a few hours.  You need to sleep.  You won’t be good to anyone if you collapse.” Q opened his mouth to protest but James’ stopped him.  “I know how to care for babies, Q.  I can handle it for a few hours.  And if I can’t, it's not like you aren’t just down the hall.  Go sleep and when you get up, we can order some food.”

Not even Eve had volunteered to watch them both on her own and Cris was torn between fear of leaving the kids without him, even if he was still in the same house, and a powerful desire just to sleep.  Finally, he agreed.  “Alright, but you wake me if you have any problems.  Anything at all.”

“We will be fine.  Go get some sleep.  And maybe a shower.”  He wrinkled his nose and Cris had to resist the urge to spit his tongue out at him.  He thought himself very mature but James’ brought out that side of him. 

Despite his worrying, the moment his head hit the pillow, Q fell asleep.  He slept soundly, didn’t even move for three hours and when he woke he was disoriented.  First, he almost felt rested.  Well, as rested as he ever felt, babies or no babies.  Second, the warm scent of curry wafted down the hall from the kitchen.  And third, he could hear three voices giggling in the living room.  His kids and… James Bond?  Giggling?

Deciding a shower really was the best thing right now, Cris took advantage of the fact that the kids were safe and entertained.  The hot water loosened tight muscles and he felt more like himself than he had in weeks by the time he stepped out.  He got dressed, casual clothes but still better than the old sweatpants and t-shirt he had been wearing earlier. 

When he made his way to the living room, he stopped in the doorway, watching the scene unfold in front of him with a smile on his face.  James had the two babies in their bouncy chairs and tickled each of their toes, resulting in peals of high-pitched giggles and James own low chuckle in reply. Knowing he could stand there watching all day, but also that what he wanted right now was something to eat, he finally stepped forward and placed a hand on James’ shoulder.

“I don’t know how to thank you for this.  I don’t have a lot of people I can count on so besides Eve, you are the first person from work to even see them.  I suppose you will tell the rest of the double-oh division when you get back?”

“Not if you don’t want me to, Q.  Besides, this was fun.  You think I am going to share this with Bill and Alec?  Think again.”  It surprised Cris to see there was no mocking in James’ eyes.  He was sincere in his desire to help.  Part of him wondered if he was still asleep.  “There’s takeaway in the kitchen.  Just arrive about fifteen minutes ago so it should still be warm.”

He continued to stare at James for a few seconds more before giving a nod and moving toward the kitchen.  James ordered some of his favorites as well as a few things he’d never tried before.  He loaded up a plate before making his way back to the other room.  “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Already did.  Finished washing up just before these two woke up.”  If Q wasn’t watching this unfold with his own eyes, he would accuse someone of pulling a prank on him.  James Bond in his house watching his kids and doing the dishes.

He shook his head, a small smile on his lips.  “I didn’t know you were so good with kids, 007.  You were an only child, right?”

“I was, and an orphan too.  The older kids had to help with the younger ones wherever I got sent to live so I learned there.” Q hummed softly.  He hadn’t meant to bring up such a difficult subject.  Family was a touchy subject for him too.

“Seems we have a couple things in common, then.  I’m also an orphaned only child.”

The evening passed comfortably, in a way Q never expected Bond to be capable of.  When the agent left well into the night, both the babies had been put down to sleep and actually did it.  “Anytime you want to come play babysitter again, Bond, my door is open.”

“Thanks, Q.  Take care of those two and I’ll see you later.”

Then he was gone, leaving his Quartermaster to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing.  When he woke the next morning to the sounds of his children fussing and realized he’d slept the whole night, it did all seem like some marvelous dream.


	9. Chapter 9

It didn’t take long for the family of three to settle into a routine. Which meant that before he knew it, Q needed to go back to work.  Before the children were born, before Tim and everything they’d built together, Cris thought nothing of his own safety.  His life was inconsequential compared to the importance of the work.  If he died in the line of duty, he would have been honoured to give his life for Queen and Country.  It was a truth everyone who worked for MI6 needed to come to terms with; very few of them made it out alive.

But that was before he had a family before two little lives depended solely on him for their own.  And that was enough to give Q pause before he walked back into the building that grey Monday morning.  Because this agency, the one he would have laid down his life for in the past, was the reason his children were growing up with only one parent.  Sure, they had Eve.  They had Mr. Mansfield, who’d become like a grandfather to them.  They even had James Bond, as strange as that was to think.  But they didn’t have their Daddy and it was because some madman held a grudge against England in general and MI6 in particular.  Tim had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and it cost him his life.

Who was to say the same wouldn’t happen to Cris?

He couldn’t leave his children behind.  But his work was important and no one else could do what he did.  The nanny he chose was someone other people at MI6 had used in the past and when he handed her his next of kin information, she hardly even blinked.  Knowing he’d done everything he could to protect them and that he would need to take care of his own safety at work, he took a deep breath and stepped inside. 

After being gone for six months, it surprised him that nothing had changed.  R kept up with his paperwork so his desk hardly had more on it than when he left.  The department still stood (always a concern when it came to interns and explosives) and everything ran like the well-oiled machine he trained them to be.  

Things were going to be alright, he told himself as he sat down to get reacquainted with everything he’d missed on his family leave. 

Eve showed up after two hours to check on him and only then did he break down and call the nanny to make sure the twins were okay.  She laughed, exasperated, and told him they were just fine and to get back to work.  “I’m sure she is more than used to new parents,” Eve laughed when he was sufficiently chastened enough to hang up the phone.  “She will call you if there is a problem.  And we need you here so please, get to work.  I would hate to have to get on your case even more than I already do.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed and quickly turned back to his computer, though his mind stayed with his children throughout the day.  And if his employees hadn’t realized that something drastic has changed in his life before, when Q clocked out at six on the nose, they were shocked and knew their boss was a new man.

Every night, Q came home to his children and spent the evening with them.  Until they went to bed, he didn’t pick up his phone, check his email or do anything remotely work related.  The kids got his full attention until they were asleep.  Once Q-Branch figured out he wouldn’t answer any calls before a certain time, they accepted it and things settled back into a routine, new but equally rewarding.

While it started off as only one or two nights a month, whenever James was in town, he would come over to see the kids.  Sometimes Eve would tag along, even Tanner on occasion.  Despite being a family of three, the twins were growing up completely adored by a number of people, making their family much larger than the biological unit.  

One of Q’s favorite things to do was tell them stories of their Daddy.  Even though they were still too young to understand, every night he told them about Tim’s sense of humor or his fearlessness.  How he would gladly stand up to people twice his size if it meant keeping an innocent person safe.  At first, no one else knew about these little stories.  They were something between them and Q had no intention of letting other people know about their little ritual.  However, James never did like following the rules and would show up in the flat at all hours without any warning.  One of those times, he walked in on the middle of story time.  “Your daddy worked for a woman who would have loved you.  You know Grandpa Mansfield?  She was his wife and Daddy was her assistant.  They worked so well together that people would shake in their shoes if they saw them coming.”

“That’s nothing,” James said, scaring Cris half out of his wits and causing the babies to giggle in delight.  “Your Daddy used to boss your Grandma around.  No one could tell her what to do, not even Grandpa.  But he could and she would just nod and do what he said.  When people were scared because they saw them coming, it was your Daddy who scared them the most.”  

Turning to Q, James laughed, “Do you remember how weak of a stomach he had?  Could never be apart of any missions that resulted in blood or death.  Which is pretty much all of them.  How do you think he would have handled diapers?” 

Q laughed and shrugged, “We hadn’t gotten that far in the conversation.  He knew in principle that he would have had to change them but I think he was honestly hoping I would do all of that so he wouldn’t have to.  He would have been so disappointed.”  

“No, he wouldn’t.”  James’ voice went soft.  “He would have had the most beautiful family.  You and I both know he would have done anything for them.”  Fiona looked up at him with big eyes, practically begging to be loved.  Looking at her, Cris knew James was right.  Tim would have dealt with anything, gone through hell and high water for these two babies.  The two of them wanted a family so much and it was unfair that Tim didn’t get to experience it with him.

James reached out, running a finger down Fiona’s nose.  “Your Daddy would have protected you as much as your Papa does,” James smiled and Q wondered if anyone else at MI6 knew how much James Bond loved children.  He watched as James leaned in as if sharing a big secret with the babies.  “I was even scared of him.  And I’m not scared of anything.”  

Fiona reached out her chubby little arms to him, hands opening and closing as she tried to grab him to pull him closer.  James scooped her into his arms and pressed kisses to her face, causing the little girl to erupt in giggles. “You, little one, look just like your Papa.  But your brother looks like your Daddy.  The likeness is rather uncanny.”

Cris had never paid that much attention before.  To him, his kids looked like his kids.  He never considered that they probably looked like one of their parents.  While the donor’s contribution was there, now that James pointed it out, he couldn’t help but see Tim when he looked at his son.  “He does look like him, doesn’t he?” he whispered in reverence.  Ewan had fallen asleep while they were talking, and Cris picked him up, holding him close while James continued to entertain Fiona.  “What are you doing here, Bond?  Weren’t you in Bali a few hours ago?”

“I was.  I finished the mission and now I am here.  I can’t let you have all the fun, Q.  Besides, you would miss me if I was gone for too long.”

James said it with such certitude that it took Q by surprise just how true the words were.  He  _ would _ miss James Bond if he wasn’t around. When did that happen?  “You just want my kids, Bond, and you can’t have them.  They already love Eve more than me.  I can’t have them falling for another coworker as well.”  Though looking at the way Fiona was looking at James, stars in her eyes as if he hung the moon, there was no doubt that his daughter already loved him.  “You do have a way with women, I will admit,” Q chuckled.

“And men, I’m not picky.”  Bond said it so casually that it took a moment for Q to right himself after his world shifted completely off axis.  In all their missions together, that information never came up.  In the time that James had known about the kids and Cris’ husband, the information never came up.  

And it shouldn’t matter.  It’s not like he wanted to date James.  He just lost his husband just over a year prior.  It was too soon to even consider dating, let alone someone as reckless and fickle as James Bond.  “Yes, well, I suppose that makes sense.  Ewan loves you just as much as his sister and if he wakes up to find out I’m holding him instead of you, there will be hell to pay.”  Judging by the snores coming from his little boy, there was no doubt he’d be asleep for quite some time, however.

James stayed to help Q get the babies ready for bed and then showed himself out.  “See you at work tomorrow.”

“Any chance you brought my equipment back?  Or did your reports?” Q knew the answer but he asked after every mission and would continue to ask after every mission until James surprised him and actually did his job.

James shook his head, entirely unapologetic.  “Sorry.  Occupational hazard you see.  Maybe next time.”  And with that, he disappeared out onto the street, leaving Q stunned and annoyed in the doorway.


End file.
